


Oh Fond Forgotten Heart

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 13:50:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: The price is paid.Ignis can’t move. Every breath is agony.Suddenly, impossibly, Noctis is at his side, and Ignis’ vision is fading but he still sees blue eyes filled with horror and sorrow. Ignis reaches out, the ring heavy on his middle finger.Oh, dear heart. Please don’t cry.[ for the prompt: Ignis sacrifices his relationship with Noctis (what is most important to him) to the gods in return for Noct's life // Ignoct Secret Santa 2018 ]





	Oh Fond Forgotten Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hati_skoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hati_skoll/gifts).



> My gift to the lovely hati_skoll for Ignoct Secret Santa 2018. So many apologies for my lateness, this fic would not let me go. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Special thank you to saltandburnboys for betaing this fic <3 and to the mods for being understanding.

_The price is paid._

0-0-0

Every step aches utterly in his bones. The smell of rot overwhelming in this graveyard of a city; the still, lifeless silence greeting them as they hurry down cold metal corridors.

“Ignis. Let me carry him.”

Despite the fatigue settled into his limbs, Ignis pays Gladio no heed, holding tighter to the dead-weight in his arms as they take a right turn towards the hangar bay. _Soon_. Soon, they can be free of this cursed place.

It’s disturbingly quiet, free of the daemons that Ignis had had to fight through. Prompto runs ahead, scanning his wrist over red glowing panels, doors sliding open to allow them access. The act pings strangely in Ignis’ mind, but he’s incapable of processing it, only briefly noting the tight line of Gladio’s mouth as he watches their friend.

Ravus awaits them at the mouth of a small imperial airship, his silver-white hair unkempt and uniform still tattered and covered in burn marks. At his feet are several unmoving bodies of magitek soldiers.

“The magitek – they’ve all – _Six_ – is he – what happened in there?”

“The Chancellor is dead. We must leave. Immediately,” Ignis says with grave finality when Ravus pauses as if to launch into more inquiries. Everything within him screams to get away as fast as possible, to find safety. Ignis feels scattered, the bright light of the crystal still dancing behind his eyes.

“Head to Cape Caem, I’ve got the coordinates. I’ll send Cor and Iris a heads up as soon as we’re in range,” Gladio says, brushing past the Tenebraen prince. Ravus noticeably bristles at the command, but thankfully doesn’t argue, activating the comms panel to alert his officers to prepare for take-off.

As the ramp begins to rise, and the airship rumbles alive around them, Ignis sinks onto the nearest bench in the small cargo bay. He doesn’t turn back to the disappearing view of Gralea, eyes only for the unconscious man in his arms.

_Noctis…_ Ignis lowers his forehead, pressing it against Noct’s. For a moment, he’s called back to quiet, rainy days in Noctis’ apartment, reports across his lap and the prince peacefully nestled against his side while he naps. When Ignis shuffles closer, Noctis doesn’t stir, but Ignis can feel the faint puffs of his breath against his cheek.

It’s enough to anchor him.

“He’s so cold,” Prompto whispers, blue eyes wet with worry as he crouches next to Ignis, hand reaching out to touch Noctis’ forearm. Fighting the instinct to pull away, Ignis instead straightens up and tugs his jacket off, attempting to cover as much of Noctis as possible.

“The Gods… demanded much from him. He will need time to recover.” After fighting through nearly a city full of daemons and soldiers, they haven’t any elixirs left to revive the prince.

Ignis brushes Noctis’ hair from his face, ignoring the throb of the jagged scar around his middle finger. He can feel Gladio and Prompto staring at him, at Noctis’ motionless form. He wishes he could offer some comfort… some explanation.

But he can’t.

The hours to the Lucian coast pass by in silence.

0-0-0

_The price is paid._

_Ignis can’t move. Every breath is agony._

_Suddenly, impossibly, Noctis is at his side, and Ignis’ vision is fading but he still sees blue eyes filled with horror and sorrow. Ignis reaches out, the ring heavy on his middle finger._

_Oh, dear heart. Please don’t cry._

_The previously dark chamber is immediately filled with streams of light bursting out from the soul of Eos, shooting out towards Noctis, striking him through the chest._

_No –_

“-nis… _Ig_ nis.”

Ignis slowly comes awake, straightening in the chair he’d situated by the bed. His glasses are resting atop the blankets nearby, and he puts them on, hoping to stall long enough for the image of Noctis engulfed in beams of light to fade from his mind’s eye.

“You’ll break his hand at this rate,” Gladio says disapprovingly from where he’s standing guard by the door. Ignis glances down at their entwined hands, taking a deep breath. _Noctis is still here._ Not quite ready to let go, Ignis eases his grip instead, rubbing his thumb over the bump of Noctis’ knuckles in apology. The sunrise filters through the curtains of the Caem house’s master bedroom, reaching the edge of the bed where Noctis’ hand lays limp within Ignis’, glinting off the Ring of the Lucii. Ignis shifts his gaze away, wishing he could have tossed the dark heirloom into the Altissian sea.

Noctis is resting on the large bed beneath royal black sheets, one of the only signs that this place once housed King Regis and his retainers. It’s comfortable for a place so unused. At least, Noctis would find comfort here, this modest accommodation by the sea, prime for fishing; it’s hard for Ignis to imagine Regis in this very room, amidst the faded blue wallpaper and the cracked wooden paneling.

The three of them have barely left Noctis’ side since their arrival to Cape Caem last night, his salt-encrusted shirt cracking with his every movement. To his left, Prompto’s still asleep, limbs twitching restlessly where he’s curled up in the armchair across the room. Meanwhile, Gladio is leaning heavily against the cracked wooden frame of the doorway. The man must have stayed up all night; the Shield has never been willing to take breaks when Noctis is most vulnerable.

“The word from the hunter outposts is that no daemons have been sighted overnight for the first time in decades.”

“To be expected.”

“Cor wants answers.”

“We can provide them as soon as Noctis is able.” Ignis doesn’t lift his gaze, choosing to ignore the numerous other inquiries that Gladio’s truly asking. “You were a witness, you could also deliver the report.”

“Sure, I’ll just tell him you tried to take on the Chancellor one-on-one. How we found you _near-death_ at his feet?” Gladio says, voice rising steadily. “How the Crystal practically exploded and Noctis was suddenly twenty feet in the air? How he jettisoned the entire armiger into Ardyn? Fuck. When Noct fell, I’ve never run so fast in my life. ”

Ignis shudders at the reminder. _Wings,_ his mind provides, _he’d had wings._

“The Chancellor… was the living embodiment of the Starscourge. It’s Noctis’ destiny as the Chosen King to defeat him. It’s as prophesised.” He grimaces; the words leave bitterness in his mouth. Ignis reaches up to massage his temple with his free hand, the memory of his beloved King struck down on his throne flashing behind his eyes.

“So that’s what that one-armed bastard meant…” Ignis does glance up at that, catching Gladiolus worrying at the scar above his brow. For a few moments, they’re both silent, contemplating the other’s words.

“Look,” Gladio says finally, crossing his arms. “Cor’s not going to be happy, but you clearly need to rest up too.” From the start, Gladio had assumed responsibility for not only Noctis’ safety, but for the entire group. It’s a phenomenon Ignis noticed growing up with him, even though Gladio still likes to think that his big brother tendencies go by unnoticed.

“Go on, we’ll give him the report later. You might as well get into the bed – we both know the Princess won’t mind.”

Ignis stiffens.

“I’m quite alright here, thank you,” he says, voice hardly louder than a rasp, fighting down the dread gathering heavily behind his ribs.

“Ignis –“

“I insist.”

“…right,” Gladio sighs. He approaches the bed to drop a large hand over Noctis’ left foot. “Wish you’d wake up soon, brat.”

Another deep sigh.

“I’ll take Chocobutt here to the other guest room then.”

Prompto has never been a still sleeper, prone to kicking or elbowing his tentmates at the best of times. Despite that, the punch that narrowly misses Gladio’s jaw is unexpected, and Gladio struggles to keep the flailing Prompto from falling out of his arms.

“No,” their friend suddenly cries out, eyes scrunched shut as he thrashes about. “Stop! I’m not one of them – I’m _not-“_

Gladio sinks to his knees, trying to keep hold of Prompto, who’s taken to viciously scratching at his left forearm.

“Hey – hey _kid_ , wake up, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Gladio says, closing his hand over Prompto’s incessant scratching. Prompto awakens with a gasp, eyes wild and confused as he takes in his surroundings.

It seems Ignis isn’t the only one keeping secrets.

The three of them, the King’s sworn protectors, utterly helpless with their own inner-daemons at His Majesty’s side. What a sight they must make.

 “…gh.”

Ignis’ heart lurches, his head whipping around to where Noctis is finally sitting up, clutching at his chest.

“Noct!” Prompto, remarkably recovered, jumps away from Gladio to climb onto the foot of the bed.

“Prom… Gladio… what happened?”

“Your dramatic ass gave us a big scare, is what happened,” Gladio says, joining them by the bedside. Noctis huffs a laugh through an embarrassed twist of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ignis watches it all, drinks it in, forgets to breathe. _He’s here, he’s alive._

Then Noctis’ eyes meet his, and Ignis’ mouth goes dry.

“Who… who are you?”

The ground beneath Ignis disappears. He’s frozen as the warmth he’d been clinging to slips away. Noctis stares at him blankly, ocean blue eyes wide and lacking recognition, his hand cradled to his chest after he’d recoiled from Ignis’ touch.

 “Funny, Noct.” Lost in his fog, Ignis hears Prompto laugh awkwardly, before the room falls completely quiet.

The silence is suffocating.

Ignis slowly, painfully, gathers the fractured pieces of himself, forces them to cog together and _act_. His foolish hope had proven futile, and he must face the consequence of his choice. His price.

“…Apologies.” Ignis stands, arm crossing over his chest stiffly, fist clenched overtop the gaping hole beneath his breast. He bends forward in a bow befitting an introduction to a King. “Your Majesty.”

The title burns in his throat, the words he’d always dreamed of saying causing nothing but pain, now. _It wasn’t supposed to be like this_.

“I am Ignis Scientia. I had been chosen to stand by your side as your advisor.”

Noctis’ brow furrows, expression strained in the way it often had been when the Archaean sought to speak with him.

“Ignis…?” Noctis trails off before grimacing, eyes shutting tightly, and Ignis moves forward on pure instinct, ready to provide comfort. It cuts sharp when Noctis leans away. Blood pounds in his ears. He feels hollow. Untethered.

Noctis breathes deeply, before looking back at him with the same unknowing eyes. “Right, I, uh. There’ll be a lot to advise me on. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” Another deep breath. “Sorry. I think I’m just really tired...”

“Of course, it has been a long day for you. I shall let you rest, if your Majesty would please excuse me,” Ignis says in the clinical, distant voice he’d used in council meetings. He bows in parting, the affection, sorrow, and devotion kept at bay by a quickly weakening dam.

Ignis leaves the room with all the strength he can muster, letting the door close behind him. He staggers a few steps down the hallway and across the threshold of the adjacent guestroom before his legs fail him. Carefully slipping his glasses off, he slowly slides to the old hardwood floor, back against the wall. His hair falls in clumped strands over his forehead. The entirety of Altissia, the fight to the death with Ardyn, - and _Noctis – alive, but lost to him_ – comes crashing down.

Grief pours out of him in aching, shuddering sobs in the silence of the room, Bahamut’s voice echoing in his mind.

0-0-0

Ever since a small, young prince had taken Ignis by the hand, they had been a constant in each other’s lives. Back then, Noctis had been quick to love and befriend others, shining and sharing his light freely. Ignis had been instantly swept up in the prince’s orbit, as enamoured as a five-year-old could be. After the Marilith attack, Noctis had become withdrawn, his inner-circle of friends shrinking drastically. Ignis had been left clinging to that treasured spot at Noctis’ side, terrified of the day he too would be replaced, or left behind.

That fear has returned, just as dark and toxic in his gut as it’d been all those years ago.

He has no claim to Noctis, not even the title of childhood friend to bind them now.

Ignis is no Prompto. He cannot set Noctis at ease with a carefree manner and distract him from the burden of the crown. He’s not even like Gladio, a big brother bound by blood and name who can mentor Noct, keep him focused with firm words and tough guidance.

In the end, the title of Advisor means nothing to Ignis. It had simply been a role to fill; an easy reason to stay by Noctis’ side. He’d worked hard, been praised as talented, exceptional. He’d taken pride in his accomplishments, happy to be considered worthy to stand by the prince.

Even then, he’d risk his entire reputation for the sake of Noctis’ smile. A fact the Citdael staff had discovered repeatedly: first when the pair would sneak away to watch the stars, and then years later, when they’d been caught sneaking kisses beneath the very same constellations.

Ignis had spent his life trying to build himself a position that could rival the space that Noctis’ light had carved within him.

And then the prophecy had threatened to take the light from Ignis’ world completely.

There had been no choice, not for Ignis.

Niflheim has fallen. The starscourge has been eradicated. Eos has been saved. Noctis still smiles, laughing at Prompto’s antics. Noctis still breathes, working through the physio exercises Gladio teaches him to regain his strength.

He simply isn’t Ignis’ anymore.

And surely, that is a small price to pay to fend off the darkness.

0-0-0

“Prompto, would you kindly take this up for me?”

The blond hesitates at the end of the kitchen island where he’d been hovering with his camera. Ignis looks down at the tray, arranging the cutlery beside the bowl.

“Uh, yeah, Iggy. Of course!” Prompto hurriedly picks up the tray, Ignis watching him warily as the dishes wobble in his hold. Prompto makes it two steps towards the stairs before hesitating again, turning back to Ignis. “I’m sure it’d be okay if you took it up instead. Noct wouldn’t mind the company.”

Ignis reaches for the small coffee pot to refill his cup, lifting the ceramic mug to his lips as an excuse not to respond. This is a sentiment Prompto has tried to convey to Ignis not-so-subtly in the past few days. His friend earnestly believes that Noctis’ mysteriously selective amnesia is only temporary and would be improved with further exposure.

It’s a hope that Ignis cannot bring himself to extinguish.

The first dish he’d made after Noctis awakened had been a simple freshly grilled barramundi, seasoned with schier turmeric, exactly the way Noctis liked it. Upon presentation, he’d been rewarded with a genuine smile that set Ignis’ heart alight. He can’t deny that he’d hoped to gain favour, or some slight recognition for the dish.

His exaltment, however, had only lasted the few short moments before Noctis spoke.

_“Did you make this?”_

As if Ignis hasn’t been making Noctis meals since he’d finally been permitted to use the Citadel kitchens as a young boy. As if Ignis wasn’t hardwired to spice every meal to Noctis’ particular preferences. As if Ignis hasn’t kept and treasured every sigh of enjoyment, every dish that’d been rapidly devoured.

Contrary to popular belief amongst the Crownsguard, keeping Noctis fed isn’t actually part of Ignis’ official role. It’d started as a way to connect to a despairing friend, a way to lighten the load for an overwhelmed teen, and then, a way to woo the heart of the one he longed for.

Ignis had to leave then, couldn’t bear the sight of Noctis enjoying the barramundi, oblivious to the fact that it was one that he’d caught just last week, at a pond he and Ignis had stumbled upon on their search for sweet peppers.

“…His Majesty isn’t comfortable in my presence as of yet,” Ignis says, purposely keeping his tone light to hide his half-truths. It’s incredibly difficult to endure each comment from Noctis that reminds Ignis there’s a void between them now. Reminders that Ignis is a stranger to him.

The mug shakes minutely within Ignis’ grip.

“Well… this Papa Bird n’ Baby bowl smells great, Iggy. He’s going to love it,” Prompto assures him, well-aware that Ignis won’t be asking later.

Ignis simply nods, hiding the dampness in his eyes, still pretending to be preoccupied with his coffee. “The floorboard on the second step is loose. Do take care on the stairs, Prompto.”

0-0-0

The next day Cor delivers his report with the same, steady voice that Ignis remembers from years of Crownsguard training at the Citadel. The papers he holds contain the initial first-hand accounts from Monica, Professor Sania, and newly re-crowned Prince Ravus.

Noctis is sitting up against the wooden headboard, with his hands folded in his lap, listening to Cor with a grave expression reminiscent of King Regis. Ignis, Gladio and Prompto stand at attention at his side for their first official briefing with Noctis as King.

“The Prince of Tenebrae would like to re-establish regular communications as soon as they are able, they have extensive re-building to do. As per the official address, it seems they will take responsibility for Niflheim’s rehabilitation as well.”

Noctis nods. “He is in the best position to do that. Tenebrae and Lucis will be free, at peace. Luna would… I’d like that.” Ignis is proud of the way Noctis’ voice doesn’t waver though the anguish is plain in his eyes. Prompto is the one who breaks stance, placing his hand on Noct’s shoulder.

“The war is finally over. Thanks to you, Your Majesty,” the Marshall says. Cor gifts Noctis a small, rare smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Your father would be proud.”

Noctis reddens, looking away uncomfortably. “I barely remember what happened. And I couldn’t have done it without the guys…”

“Better work on that ‘Thank You’ speech,” Gladio chimes in.

“Do I get a statue? Come on Noct, I think we should get a statue –“ Prompto tries out a few poses, each more ridiculous than the last. Noctis rolls his eyes, mouth twisted in suppressed laughter, struggling not to break his royal composure.

Cor snorts, shaking his head at them. “While you recover, I shall meet with a few of the surviving glaive in Insomnia, we’ll secure the area and prepare for your arrival.“

“Insomnia…” Home. They would finally get to go home. Noctis looks heartened by the news, but Ignis can tell from the droop of his eyelids, that the fatigue is setting in again.

Cor leaves soon after, Ignis and Gladio following suit. Ignis catches the door before it shuts, holding it open for Prompto, but the boy is still standing at Noctis’ side, looking more serious than Ignis has ever seen him.

“Noct? Can I talk to you?”

Long gone are the days that Ignis had suspected Prompto carried a torch for Noctis, but the question gnaws at Ignis just the same.

“Leave them be. You know it’s not like that,” Gladio says in a long-suffering tone, pulling Ignis away by the elbow.

“He’ll tell us when he’s ready. I think the kid just needs to hear Noctis isn’t going to exile him first.”

Ignis raises a brow at that, but trusts Gladio’s word that he will find out soon enough. They proceed down the hallway together, Ignis making mental lists of ingredients he’d need for dinner.

“And what about you?” Gladio asks, stopping Ignis at the top of the stairs. “When are you going to come clean about the scar around your finger?”

“Leave it, Gladio,” Ignis says, meeting Gladio’s eyes, sharp amber scrutinizing his every move. He forgets how perceptive his friend truly is.

“That wasn’t your sacrifice to make, Ignis.” Gladio crosses his arms, unrelenting. “We would’ve found another way.”

“…no.” He remembers Noctis _,_ run through, _pinned to his own throne._ “…we wouldn’t have.”

0-0-0

“I think the scars are pretty cool.” Startled, Ignis turns away from the wall mirror to see Noctis leaning heavily against the doorway.

“Your Majesty, you should be resting –“ Had Ignis been so caught up in his fit of vanity that he hadn’t heard Noctis enter his room? He immediately holds out his arm, heart skipping as Noctis places his hand on Ignis’ elbow, accepting the assistance into the nearest armchair.

“S’boring,” Noctis says, slumping down. The black t-shirt and sweatpants that they had found in Regis’ old dresser hang loosely on his frame. His midnight black hair’s grown out a little since the start of their journey, layered strands framing his face when it’s not styled up into soft spikes. Ignis suppresses the urge to brush it back, imagining the way Noctis would have sighed at the touch before -

Before.

“You shouldn’t do that, they look new… just let them heal.” Confused, Ignis lowers his hand, realizing he had been rubbing at one of his scars, feeling the smooth gap between the fine hairs of his eyebrow.

Ignis’ cheeks heat, suddenly even more self-conscious. Noctis has a habit of speaking matter-of-factly when the topic doesn’t involve emotions too heavily. While blunt honesty isn’t the best for maneuvering politics, Ignis finds it disarming, and sweet. He’s surprised to be the recipient of it so early in their new relationship. He must have appeared quite dismayed for Noctis to have interrupted him at all.

“I appreciate your compliments, Your Majesty, but I’m not too bothered by the scars, honestly.” It’s simply that Ignis has always taken care of his appearance, quick to iron out any perceived imperfections. After all, it wouldn’t do for the royal advisor to be seen as anything less than immaculate.

It would be easy to forget about the slim scars across his face, but the slight discomfort with every rise of his eyebrow, every stretch of his mouth, is a reminder of his changed appearance.

Once, a tipsy young prince had declared Ignis the Most Handsome Man in all of Insomnia. Noctis’ words may have gone to Ignis’ head (and his heart), just a little. The idea of being attractive, especially to Noctis, had been an exhilarating one indeed.

He doesn’t think anyone could blame him for wishing to remain so.

Still. With the weight of what they had all lost, Ignis is ashamed to even spare a thought for such a trivial matter.

“Gladio says it happened in Altissia.”

Ignis pauses, breath in his throat. It’s not accurate, but it’s an easier explanation for Noctis to accept by far. The city had been torn apart by Leviathan and the Empire; it would make sense that Ignis had been one of the wounded there. Noctis doesn’t remember how they had rushed from Altissia to Gralea to save him, and Ignis still hasn’t relayed the true events to Prompto nor Gladio, and he doesn’t intend to.

“He said… that you were protecting someone you cared about.”

Gladio says entirely too much.

“That’s true, Your Majesty,” Ignis admits, devotion thrumming in his veins. “They were very dear to me. They still are.”

Noctis nods, face falling.

“I’m sorry.” Noctis lowers his head, hands in his lap.

Ignis sighs and goes to Noctis, falling to one knee so that he can draw Noctis’ gaze back to him. “Your Majesty, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“If I could have forged the covenant faster, everyone in Altissia… Luna, this person, and _you_ wouldn’t have been hurt.”

“Please do not take the consequences of decisions made by the Gods upon yourself.”

Noctis shakes his head, the guilt still a turbulent storm behind his eyes. He has no idea how much had truly been orchestrated by the Gods, and how much more they had planned to take. His whole family, his life, had been hostage to the Astrals’ machinations.

“And you still offered to be my advisor, after all that.” It’s clear by Noctis’ tone that he refers to what he thinks are his weaknesses, his failures. He does not consider that he had proven himself worthy to Leviathan, to the Crystal. He does not consider faulting those that set out to harm him, just that he did not stop them in time.

“It is my honour to stay at your side, Your Majesty.”

“Why? I can’t offer you much. My kingdom is in ruins,” Noctis presses, so reminiscent of a certain sullen twelve-year-old who had yet to realize Ignis’ friendship was more than a promise to the King.

As before, it hurts to hear the doubt in Noctis’ voice now. Still kneeling, Ignis crosses his arm up to his chest, palm resting over his beating heart. Vowing himself to Noctis has never been a hardship.

“If you would have me, I would stand by you until the end, Your Majesty. That is enough. Truly… it is the best way to protect those dearest to me.”

There’s another pause as Noctis takes in his response, a slight flush over his cheeks at the earnestness of his declaration. In another time, Noctis would have accused him of being dramatic.

“I… if that’s what you really want.”

Ignis bows again, smiling at his dear flustered King.

“And really. Don’t worry about the scars. You earned them defending the person you love. They’re a badge of honour, and they complement your… uh features. They’re good features.”

Noctis flushes even deeper during his ramble. With that admission, Ignis’ heart lightens and he can’t help but chuckle as the King suddenly stands and hobbles his way back to the door, making excuses about getting back to bedrest.

“Apologies, I hadn’t asked earlier. Did you have need of me, Your Majesty?”

Noctis rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks still glowing pink.

“No I…” Noctis looks away. “I just didn’t want to stay in bed anymore. I wasn’t even thinking of where I was going and…” He gestures around Ignis’ room.

_And here he is_.

“You’re always welcome, Your Majesty,” Ignis says, smiling wide enough to pull at the scars splitting his brows and bottom lip. Suddenly, he can’t find it in himself to mind.

Noctis smiles in return, pausing before he crosses the threshold. “Ignis.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Call me Noctis.”

0-0-0

They receive word from Cor the following day: Insomnia has been secured. The magitek soldiers that invaded the area are all defeated or defunct, and he and the remaining Crownsguard are prepared to receive Noctis and his retinue within the next two weeks.

Encouraged by the prospect of finally returning home, Noctis works even harder to fight off the heavy exhaustion that has been plaguing him. Ignis would be more worried about the fatigue, but Noctis’ pallor and appetite seem to be improving as time goes on. He goes for runs with Gladio in the mornings; he explores the Cape for potential photo ops with Prompto. He even helps Iris tend the garden, working the soil when it becomes more difficult to cultivate. Afterwards, Noctis curls up in the armchair in Ignis’ room, apparently content to nap there while Ignis drafts communications from Cor to representatives in Tenebrae and Altissia.

It’s a warming thought, that Noctis seeks out his presence like he used to, despite not quite knowing the reason why. With Noctis sleeping peacefully just an arm’s length away, Ignis finds his gaze drawn to him more often than not, longing to wrap him in an embrace once more. For Noctis to call him ‘Specs’ with the same private adoration that he once had.

_This is enough,_ Ignis tells himself. Because it has to be.

The four of them start having meals together again, with Iris and any hunters or Crownsguard that happen to be in the area. Iris and Ignis both taking turns creating meals for the group, the table especially lively when Iris wheedles her brother into a frilly apron to help with dinner. Gladio has his fun with it, flexing and posing for Prompto’s ever present camera as the flashes go off, Noctis nearly falling off his chair laughing.

It had been unintentional, but the secret he carried isolated Ignis more than he had realized – and not just from Noctis. He’d truly missed his friends.

One of the hunters passes on word that a large karlabos had been spotted along the coast. Noctis is practically drooling at the thought of fresh karlabos claws, eagerly turning to Gladio to get his Shield’s go-ahead.

In turn, Gladio cuts a glance at Ignis with a raised brow. Noctis’ recovery has been going well, and a karlabos shouldn’t be too difficult for the four of them to handle. Ignis makes a show of humming and hawing over his recipe book before snapping it closed and nodding his assent.

Noctis fist pumps, looking as cheerful as he always does when seafood is involved.

They meet outside the safehouse the next morning. For once Ignis is the last to join the group, having been delayed in the kitchen packing some food for their short trip.

“Wait – Ignis, you’re coming too? This could get dangerous.”

From the corner of his eye, Ignis notices Gladio and Prompto freeze. Ignis, himself, is taken aback, before reminding himself that of course Noctis doesn’t remember, and that Advisors are not usually trained in combat, especially not to the extent that he had been. King Regis had been surprised when Ignis requested to enlist in the Crownsguard, but Ignis had been adamant. He couldn’t imagine staying behind while Noctis would be on the frontlines of battle, surrounded by enemies.

“Yes, Your Majesty. I assure you I am quite capable.”

Noctis looks doubtful, which Ignis is slightly insulted by, memory loss or not, but Noctis acquiesces in the end.

The group follows the beach towards Leirity Seaside where the giant crustacean had last been seen.

It’s not difficult to find at all, the beast being three times the size Ignis had anticipated, probably large enough to take down most of the ships they’d seen docked in Altissia. They stand above it, atop a bluff that descends into the sandy base the karlabos is raging around in.

Noctis considers it for a moment before disappearing in a flurry of blue sparks, leaving a transparent after-image in his wake. Gladio rolls his eyes before summoning his weapon and jumping down to join Noctis. Prompto and Ignis follow suit, but not before Ignis enhances his polearm with an ice spell.

Ignis dodges the claw with a somersault as it swings down, landing just behind it to deliver three exacting hits to the vulnerable spot beneath its shell. The beast roars, swinging back at him. Noctis jumps in front, deflecting the claw with the engine blade.

They turn back to back, nodding to each other, Noctis summoning his own polearm to strike just as Ignis leaps from above to land his own attack. They each deal blows, readily returning to each other’s side before jumping back into the fray.

However, the karlabos proves stubborn, its hard shell absorbing most of the damage. It’s time to change tactics.

“Ignis!” Noctis calls from his left.

Pushing his glasses up, Ignis assesses their foe, spotting weak points in the claw joints and gaps in the armor. He summons his daggers to his hands, throwing them at each of the vulnerabilities, shouting to Noct as he goes. “On my mark!”

Noctis warps to each point Ignis has marked, digging the engine blade into the enemy as he goes. The giant crab rears back, roaring in pain. It catches Noctis mid-warp with its claw, flinging him across the beach and into a jagged rock.

“Noct!” Ignis cries out as he sprints towards him. Gladio steps into the creature’s line of sight to distract it from Ignis and Noctis, Prompto also hanging back to take shots when the opening arises.

Noctis is on the ground, cradling his ribs, and Ignis immediately places his hand on Noctis’ back, casting a quick healing spell. Noctis sighs in relief but when he looks up, his eyes are glowing red.

“Noctis?”

Noctis throws out his arm, and Ignis sees now that the Ring is glowing as well. A bright flash of light and suddenly Noctis is in the air, flying above them with the armiger at his back.

Forming wings.

Terror seizes his heart, memories from Gralea wrapping him up in panic. Ignis hears Prompto and Gladio calling out to Noctis too, but Noctis pays them no mind, eyes bright with the Ring’s power. One after another, the crystalline weapons fly out to strike the karlabos, cutting through its shelled exterior. Noctis summons his father’s sword to his hand and dives, the armiger stretched behind him like the wings of a predator bird homing in on its prey.

Dodging the enraged swinging claws, Noctis delivers one final strike to the karlabos’ head, Regis’ sword slicing clean through. The beast twitches its legs before finally unbalancing, falling to its side with a heavy thud and a spray of sand.

Noctis floats down, Ignis, Prompto and Gladio scrambling across the sand to meet him. The armiger disperses as Noctis’ feet touch sand, red eyes fading back to deep blue. Noctis falls forward, and Ignis catches him in his arms.

“Noct –“

“Oh Gods, is he okay –“

Ignis lowers Noctis to the ground, and Noct groans, gripping Ignis’ upper arms to keep himself up. “Well, that was harder than I thought.”

“You shouldn’t have been so reckless,” Ignis chides, relief flooding through him. If Noctis is complaining, then he’s alright.

Another groan. Noctis sits up, falling back onto his elbows. He huffs a laugh.

“But you gotta admit, we made a pretty good team back there.” Ignis mutters _indeed_ under his breath. They had fought in sync, in-step with each other as they always had. Though Noctis has forgotten, it seems his body still remembers their movements. Ignis could weep from relief: a part of Noctis is not lost to him after all. “Guess you’ve got my back.”

“Always.”

Noctis casts a strange look at him, as if there’s a puzzle he’s trying to work out. Before he can say anything, Gladio calls them over to help him with the ‘damn crab claws.’ Ignis nods at Noctis to go ahead, watching as he runs to help retrieve as much crab meat as they can recover.

0-0-0

_2 Leiden sweet potato (best flavour in late summer)_

_1 ¼ cups fine cleigne wheat (sifted)_

_Icing sugar (copious - ‘the more the better’)_

_\---_

_Strawberry-honey (too sweet, wrong texture)_

_Raspberry (colour is perfect, too tart)_

_Banana mix (flavourful but N recalls berry type filling, no banana)_

Ignis flips through pages of his attempted recipes before putting his notebook down. He doesn’t have a wide variety of ingredients for the filling. While the cape provides plenty of opportunity for seafood dishes, the abandoned area is not quite ready for cultivation of a wider range of fruits or vegetables.

It’s their last day at the safe house.

He turns a few dials on the old oven, then pulls out two mixing bowls, placing them on the kitchen counter. Preparing the pastry crust is second nature at this point, the one part of the recipe he had perfected long ago – right down to the flaky, buttery layers – as per a particularly impressed fifteen-year-old Noctis.

Ignis quickly falls into the motions of creating the pastry, deciding on a lemon curd filling for today. It won’t be what Noctis had eaten in Tenebrae as a child, but it hasn’t been about that for a long time.

He’s filling the baked tart shells with the curd when Noctis walks into the kitchen, hands in his pockets.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” Ignis says, not pausing in his movements. “How was your day with Prompto?”

“It was good.” Noctis grabs one of the kitchen island stools, dragging it closer to where Ignis is working. Ignis raises an eyebrow at his odd response, not sure what to make of Noctis’ short pause before ‘good’. Their eyes meet for a moment but Noctis looks away, leaning over the counter to take a closer look at the pastries instead.

“So… you bake, too.”

“I am a man of many talents,” Ignis says lightly, swallowing down his disappointment, not having the heart to elaborate further. It’s Noctis’ turn to raise a brow, but Ignis ignores him, placing the tarts into the oven and setting his phone timer.

When he straightens, he sees his black recipe book in Noctis’ hands, the young King flipping through the pages curiously.

“Noct!” Uncaring of how scandalized he sounds, Ignis makes a grab for it, but Noct phases to the side, then swipes up the batter-coated spatula, throwing it to warp to the other side of the room.

Ignis is in utter shock; it’d always been an implicit understanding between them that Ignis’ notebook was completely private. Despite Gladio’s claims that it’s filled with scribbles of hearts and variations of _Mr. Ignis Lucis Caelum_ , he has nothing to _hide_ from Noctis.

And yet, when Noctis flips to a certain page and stills, chilling fear takes hold of Ignis. “ _Your Majesty, please_.”

Noctis looks up at him then, snapping the book closed and holding it out to Ignis.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He’s looking at Ignis with that same expression he had on the beach, blue eyes filled with somber understanding, as if the last puzzle piece has clicked into place.

Ignis tries to regain his composure, accepting the book back and returning it to his pocket. He takes a few calming breaths, shock, anger, and fear still gripping his lungs.

“… how many times have you made ‘Noct’s Memory Lane Pastry’?”

Ignis’ eyes fall shut.

“Many times. Ever since you first described them to me.”

“And we were… _are_ friends.” Noctis reveals a photo from his own pocket. From the jade bamboo background, Ignis recognizes it as their favourite sushi restaurant in Insomnia. Gladio is there, his tattooed shoulder just making the corner of the frame, and of course the photo is one of Prompto’s. Noctis is in his high school uniform, tie loosened around his neck, and Ignis’ hair is styled neatly down, and he’s wearing his usual white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. The two of them are seated next to each other, Noctis in the middle of chewing what must be a piece of a particularly large roll, and Ignis staring at him with embarrassing fondness.

Ignis wonders if Noctis realizes they’re holding hands under the table.

“Yes. Since we were children.”

“I don’t remember. I know that my dad introduced me to someone… someone… made me my favourite dessert. Just not… who.” Noctis grits his teeth, hand coming up to hold his head. Ignis is at his side immediately, guiding him over to the worn couches in the living room. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Your Majesty –“

“You know, it’s okay to call me ‘Noct’ even when you’re not about to use me as target practice.”

Ignis inhales sharply. He hadn’t even realized he’d let _Noct_ slip. Noctis has never been grudging with his nickname but ‘Noct’ had felt too… intimate for their current relationship.

“Noct.”

“I would’ve wanted to know.” He looks down at the photograph in his hands. Ignis can tell from Noctis’ tensed jaw that the headache is worsening.

Ignis holds out his hands. “May I?”

Noctis nods, eyes squeezing shut against the pain. Ignis leans over the back of the couch, gently massaging Noctis’ temples like he has so many times before, fingers occasionally brushing through soft black hair. Noctis lets his head fall back into Ignis’ touch.

And just as before, Noctis is already succumbing to sleep.

“It hurts you to try to remember,” Ignis confesses. In truth, he’d never planned to reveal any of it to Noctis. The world already weighs so heavily on him. This… is just another unnecessary burden.

“It hurts _you_ that I forgot.” Royal blue eyes meet his and Ignis falters, their faces closer together than he’d realized. He can see each flutter of Noct’s eyelashes, framing the elegant slant of his eyes. Noctis’ gaze flickers up to settle upon Ignis’ lips, mouth slightly parted as he arches up to close the distance between them.

Ignis’ phone goes off, vibrating and ringing loudly in his breast pocket.

_The tarts_.

Noctis scrambles up, standing on the other side of the couch from Ignis, shaken from his reverie.

“I’m sorry –“ Noctis says, backing away, hand over his mouth. He rushes to leave, and Ignis doesn’t stop him.

0-0-0

_The price is paid._

_Bright, crystalline weapons burst forth. It’s painful to keep his eyes open, but he couldn’t look away even if he wished to._

_Sword of the wise, axe of the conqueror, shield, bow, blades… the Lucian royal arms adorn Noctis’ back like jagged wings, broad and terrifying like the Zu. They shine, vibrant with power._

_Noctis has been bent back by the force of the crystal’s strike, clutching at his chest with both hands. After a moment, he slumps forward, the wings flaring out to balance him. Finally, he lifts his head and turns glowing red eyes towards Ignis._

_It’s… beautiful. Noctis is beautiful._

_There’s warmth running through Ignis now, an electrified sensation like that of Noctis’ elixirs and spells. Some of his pain eases, his vision returns._

_He sees it all: the slow, axial rotation of each royal arm, the tatters of Noctis’ shirt – shredded where the armiger tore free from his back, the tears in Noctis’ brilliant red eyes, leaving damp trails on his cheeks._

_Ignis reaches out. The ring of the Lucii shatters into dust around his middle finger, the remnants forming a stream that floats up towards Noctis’ own hand._

_The wings flare up once again, and Noctis begins to rise, feet lifting off the ground as he ascends, higher, higher, higher._

_Beyond his reach._

0-0-0

That night, Ignis inexplicably awakens – after a glance at his watch – far too early. He sits up, trying to regain his bearings, ignoring the persistent dull pang at the sight of the still-made other half of the bed. On a journey with a small budget and three other men, it had been a rarity to get a bed all to himself, and even on those very spare occasions, a certain clingy prince had still found his way in between the covers next to him.

Although… he brings his hand up, touching the curve of his own lips with a frown, remembering their almost-kiss from that afternoon. The near-miss has left him yearning even though he’d foolishly thought he’d finally gained control over his wretched pining.

A familiar sound makes Ignis pause as he reaches for his glasses on the bedside table. The walls in the safehouse are thin. He can hear Gladio’s telltale rumbling snores from the adjacent room, and also…

After a quick glance out of his frosted window to confirm, he gets dressed, pulling his shoes and his robe on overtop his sleep clothes. The house is still and dark as he walks as quietly as he can manage, stairs creaking under his feet as he goes.

The stars are bright, unaffected by the glow of the lamplit path near the house. It’s enough to guide his way. He finds Noctis outside, standing near the base of the lighthouse, low voice carrying over the gentle sea breeze.

Ignis halts when he sees that Gentiana is with him. Her long black hair sways with the wind, a soft aura surrounding her as she smiles at Noctis, serene and enigmatic as always. The two don’t acknowledge him, preoccupied with their conversation. A sudden chill in his bones keeps him immobile, and he has the impression that Gentiana, at least, is aware of his presence.

“…my promise is fulfilled.”

Noctis holds a single sylleblossom to his chest, a peaceful smile on his face as he lets it burst into blue sparks, vanishing it into the armiger. “…Thank you.”

She tilts her head toward Ignis now, eyes falling shut but smile ever-present. “The Dawn King is well-loved.”

Noctis startles, finally spotting Ignis. He looks between them in confusion.

“The Astrals are not so unaffected by the mortals we have sworn to safeguard.”

“A price once paid, cannot be returned. However, in light of selfless sacrifice, the Six may grant a brief respite before the dawn.” Gentiana says, turning back to Noctis and framing his face with her hands. Noctis shivers as she lowers a kiss above his left eye.

She disappears with the next sweep of wind, carrying away shattered white frost, and leaving Ignis and Noctis alone on the hilltop.

“…Ignis?” His arms are full the next moment, Noctis’ face buried in his neck, cheeks wet with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Noct,” Ignis gasps, mind whirling. Could it be? “Noctis.”

“ _Specs,_ ” Noctis sobs.

Ignis wraps him up in a close embrace, letting Noctis cry into his shoulder. “ _Noct_. My Noct.”

“How could you… Why would you do that?”

“I wasn’t going to let you die, Noctis.”

“But… but now you…”

“No. It is difficult, the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do…” Ignis cups his face, Noctis leaning into the warmth of his hand as he looks back at him desperately. “ _Dearest heart_. I don’t regret it. I get to see you on the throne. I get to stand by your side as you live out the rest of your days. I still have you, Noct. The alternative, losing you completely… I couldn’t bear it.”

Noctis surges up and kisses him, body arching, fingers scrabbling over Ignis’ jaw, travelling up and down his neck, and clinging to his shoulders. Ignis is dizzy with the bliss of his love’s warm lips against his. He tightens his arms around Noct’s waist, pouring his love and longing into the connection between them. Noctis is breathless, refusing to part from Ignis for more than a second to gasp for air.

Too soon, a hint of orange begins to colour the horizon. Noctis’ hands tighten around his as Ignis braces himself for a final farewell.

“Keep being your cheesy, dramatic self. I’m a real sucker for that, apparently,” Noctis grins crookedly despite the dampness of his eyes, his cheeks reddening - embarrassed even now to speak his heart. 

“Give me some time Specs. It’s always going to be you.”

“I will wait as long as it takes.” Ignis vows, raising Noctis’ hand to his lips, tears falling as his eyes squeeze shut, blocking out the dawn for just another moment.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you for reading!
> 
> For hati_skoll: I just loved all of your prompts, but this one stuck out to me the most. I adore TRC so much, and wanted to try my hand at it.
> 
> Full prompt: Ignis sacrifices his relationship with Noctis (what is most important to him) to the gods in return for Noct's life - a la Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles. He still gets Noct to fall in love with him again.


End file.
